Depressed
by mazmck
Summary: This story is about a woman  Who thinks life is not worth living anymore.  She has had a hard life and no one wants her.  What will happen to this poor lost soul?  And will she discover happiness?


_**Depressed.**_

_**By Merrie McKinnon**_

This story is about a woman

Who thinks life is not worth living anymore.

She has had a hard life and no one wants her.

What will happen to this poor lost soul?

And will she discover happiness?

I was watching my brothers' body burn and shrivel as the hungry flames licked and devoured his still and cold body.

As the remains of his ashes were spread I knew it was time to go, to leave and to never come back.

I had no more life to be lived, no one to tell anything to, I was alone in the world.

The train was rusty and it sounded like it was going to split in half, I imagined splinters going everywhere and stabbing me in the heart. That would be good.

What was the point of living when there was no one left to live it with? But what was the point in dying when there was no one to miss you?

After my brother's funeral, my dad left my mum. I was then cast aside by her for being so called 'crazy'. As a result, I wasn't in the best mental condition.

I was in London travelling by train, every day getting further and further away from my home. Not that it was much of a home, I despised the place.

I used to think I'd be an amazing writer, but no one would buy my books, they would rather romances and mysteries with happy endings. I am no longer able to write those kinds of stories.

Now I love to write about the stories of people that were never noticed or loved and lived hard lives in the slums of England. I want to show people that not all lives have happy endings.

The train lurched and came to an abrupt halt.

The lights flickered and went out. My breath came in little pants.

I could hear people screaming, I heard running footsteps. The door of my compartment was shoved open, and I saw him, with a rusty jagged knife in his hand. I wanted to scream but I couldn't, for bile had crept up my throat blocking my windpipe. My eyes felt huge. I knew his face.

The man smiled wickedly at me and jumped forwards the knife angled at my heart. I shoved my hands out uselessly for some protection.

All of the anger, sadness, guilt and desperation I'd had bottled away flared up inside of me. A flash of brightly coloured sparks flew out of my hand and threw themselves at the knife bearer. His smile faulted. His eyes! I knew who he was, but he burst into flames!

I gaped at my hands as the man crumpled to the ground in a heap of smoking rags.

That man had tried to kill me. Why would my own father want to kill me?

I now know why my mother had thought me crazy, because all of the things I had seen, felt and sensed were magic. I'd predicted the future once (I didn't know it at the time of course) that my dog would die. She did.

Someone would have heard or seen that (In the past my mum and my grandmother had filled my brothers and sisters heads with stories of witches getting burned and in those days magic was frowned upon) so I needed to get out of here fast. Why would I though? If I wanted to die why not just face it?

The train had stopped in the middle of a bridge so high and the mist so thick you couldn't see the bottom.

But I lifted the window anyway and then...

I jumped.

I felt the mist making a tunnel for me to fall through, but the air was cold and it was raining in buckets, ice was coming down in sharp slats that pieced my skin and made it impossible to see. I knew why my father had wanted to kill me. My brother dying had been my fault. My brother had always been his favoured child.

About one minute later I hit the bottom.

The water was deep and freezing.

As I plunged deep into the bottom of the river or lake (it was hard to tell for it was night).

In the mad struggle to stay afloat I tried to remember a type of movement to move through the water.

Wait, no I was never taught how to swim. My parents had always thought it a waste of time "She will never need to swim" they would say. I was a waste of time to them though.

As I thrashed and swallowed more water than was healthy for me I imagined my life flashing before me.

Then it did; every memory, every feeling and thought I had ever had flashed before my eyes.

I knew that as I was dead I would join my brother again.

I would get my last and only wish. To die and be forgotten.

Will Heaven's golden gates open for me? Or will the devils nasty grin get me first?

My magic could not help me now.

And so, I let myself go...

By Merrie McKinnon


End file.
